


Taking the Fall

by NowThatsDedication



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Brother relationship, Fluff, Gen, Protective brother Fili, pre quest, young Durins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-16 16:54:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11832999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NowThatsDedication/pseuds/NowThatsDedication
Summary: An accident leads young Fíli to learn a new skill, and little Kíli learns about promises.





	Taking the Fall

“I can’t move it, I won’t be able to do _anything_!” Fíli’s mangled arm was imprisoned by bandages and wood slats that itched something awful. It was uncomfortable, painful; but feeling powerless was worse. ‘I hate this!”

“You’re going to have to make do with the other arm for a while,” his mother said, fluffing his pillow and checking the huge bump on his head again. That had gone down, at least.

“Really Fíli, it’s your own fault for being disobedient. I hope you’ve learned a lesson.” She instantly chastised herself for sounding too harsh, too much like her brother. Now was not the time to scold her poor son, who may have done lasting damage to the limb. And if he would have fallen further? She didn’t want to think of that. He was lucky, considering.

But what a fright it was to have little Kíli chase her down in a panic, sobbing and gasping, the only word he could manage was Fíli! Fíli! as he pointed towards the trees. Then to find her eldest in a heap, arm bent at a horrifying angle. He didn’t cry, no, not Fíli. Instead, he was examining his injury with a look of curiosity and disgust, shock certainly numbing the pain. Yes, very lucky.

“I did. It should have never happened,” he mumbled and picked at the bandages.

Dís rested her forehead on his, her affection making up for the previous sternness. “We all make mistakes.” She emptied a pouch of foul smelling powder into a cup of steaming tea. “Here, drink this. Mr. Oin said it will get rid of the soreness.”

“I don't need it. I'm fine now,” he protested. Fíli wasn’t about to trust a healer now, after having his arm set earlier. ‘You'll only feel a slight discomfort’ he was promised. That was a boldfaced lie.

“ _Fíli_ …” This was a tone that could not be defied. He reluctantly swallowed it, twisting his mouth at the bitter flavor.

“The worse it tastes, the better it works.“ She planted a kiss on his head, near the bump. “Try and get some rest. You’ve had a rough day, my love.”

What an understatement, Fíli thought. He never intended to have such a day. No one ever does.

Bored and bedridden, he practiced using his left hand, pulling items off the nightstand and twirling them with surprising dexterity. It wasn’t as hard as he imagined. But you still couldn’t braid with one hand. And was his left arm strong enough for a sword? He mulled this until a dark head popped up from the side of the bed, interrupting his frustrations.

“Fíli!” Somehow, Kíli had snuck in, or convinced someone to let him in with big pleading eyes; stealth, manipulation, or both. “You’re alive! I'm so happy you're alive.”

“Of course I'm alive!”

Kíli climbed up, uninvited, dragging something behind him with difficulty.

“Careful, watch my arm,” Fíli cautioned his brother as he crawled across. Kíli immediately slowed his scramble and stared at the appendage with wonder.

“So what happened to it?”

“It’s bro- uh, it’s a little banged up, is all.” Kíli might assume broken means unfixable, like the bow he carelessly snapped in half and cried about for a week. No need to worry him.

“What is that? A shield?” He asked, lightly tapping the splint. Kíli had never seen such a contraption.

“Not quite, but it’ll fix my arm.”

“How?”

“It straightens it, I think.”

“It looks straight enough to me.” He poked the heavily bandaged part. “Can you feel that?”

“Not really.”

“I want one.”

“No you don’t, trust me.” He had a hunch that by tomorrow Kíli will have fashioned his own splint out of sticks and display it proudly. Anything Fíli did, Kíli had to follow.

"Is it going to fall off?”

"What is?”

“Your arm.”

“It isn't going to fall off!!” Fíli chuckled at the absurdity.

“Does it hurt?”

“No,” he lied. Never show weakness. His uncle always offered that wisdom. Fíli assumed it to include inquisitive little brothers.

Kíli dropped the mystery object on Fíli’s stomach. A tattered book.

“Oof!” A heavy book, at that. “What’s this for?”

“For you.”

“Oh?”

“Because you can’t do anything else for fun,” he pouted sympathetically.

Fíli was touched by this apparent thoughtfulness. “Thanks, Kí. That’s nice of you.”

“Can you read it to me?” Kíli asked. He must be bored, Fíli realized, without another able-bodied dwarfling to play with.

Fíli finally looked down at the cover: _Complete Record of Tactical Catapult Construction_.

“Umm, sure.” He flipped the pages to one of the sparse illustrations and began to make up his own story. Kíli wouldn’t know the difference, because he could barely read. He rambled on about hidden kingdoms and defeated dragons and Kíli gave his undivided attention.

“And this was King Hard-Ax The Hairy,” he pointed at a drawing of an especially hirsute fellow, “See how big his beard was? It was so big that…rabbits lived inside it!”

This nonsensical plot twist was welcomed with a spray of spit; Kíli cracked up as if it was the funniest thing he had ever heard. In the last hour, anyway.

“You like that, huh? Well, whenever someone angered him, he’d set the rabbits after them. They’d hop out and…attack!” He squeezed Kíli’s shoulder, causing a shriek of surprise then a recoil.

“I don’t want mean rabbits in my beard!” Kíli seemed genuinely perturbed by the idea, “They could bite!”

“It won't happen. First, you don’t have a beard yet. And second...it’s just a story.” The reassurance should prevent any future nightmares, for Fíli knew his young brother had a vivid imagination.

“ _Some_ stories are real,” Kíli disputed, reminiscing about tales of the Lonely Mountain.

“Well, that’s true. But not _all_ of them.”

“Sometimes it’s hard to tell what’s real or not real. I thought the story about the golden birds who live on tree tops was real,” he confessed, ashamed. Today he found out for himself it wasn't.

“Yes, sometimes it’s hard,” Fíli said quietly. “Kíli...I didn’t tell anyone what happened and I won’t. Don't worry.”

“Secret?” Few things were more serious and binding to Kíli than a secret.

“Uh huh, it’s a secret. But maybe...maybe next time you can listen to me when I say don’t climb.”

Kíli nodded. It was so much fun though! What else were trees made for but to climb and look for not-real birds?

“See what happens when you don’t listen and I have to rescue you?” Fíli warned, raising his arm, or rather, attempting to. “We can get hurt, if we don’t listen to each other.”

“But I didn’t mean to!” He was defensive, as he often was when confronted with guilt.

“ _Kíli_ …” Fíli borrowed that tone from his mother. It worked wonders. “Promise me.”

“I’m sorry," he sniffed, not looking up. “I promise.” A promise was even more meaningful than a secret.

“Good.” Fíli was convinced this vow would stick for a little while at least. Little did he know it would endure for much longer.

“Don’t be mad at me, please, I didn’t want you to fall and have that…that thing stuck to your arm. I swear.” His voice quivered and he seemed on the verge of tears. 

“I’m not _mad_ at you. I’m only telling you. For next time.” As far as Fíli was concerned, it didn’t matter what had happened or how.

“Oh,” Kíli let go of the breath he was holding and wiped his nose. What a relief! His brother being angry with him was the worst fate he could think of (except maybe the attack rabbits). But next time! Kíli would show just how good he could listen next time. “When can you go outside again?”

“Not for a long time,” Fíli sighed. The reminder stung him hard.

“Hrmm,” Kíli crossed his arms in disappointment. “Then what am I supposed to do?”

“I guess you’ll have to find more books,” Fíli skimmed the dusty pages with his left hand. It was much easier now. “Where did we leave off?”

“Mean beard rabbits.”

“Right.” Fíli was suddenly very sleepy. He suspected it was that awful powder he took. “Beware the...the beard rabbits. Don't anger the...king or...or….else.”

“Come on, you have to finish it!” Kíli prodded him, but he too was falling to the contagious slumber that was circling the room.

"By the way, Fíli, thank you for…” a long yawn interrupted Kíli’s gratitude, “...rescuing me and for the secret.”

“Eh, you know I…that I…and I'm...supposed...to….” Fíli succumbed to the drowsiness, his golden head slumping onto the pillow.

Kíli wouldn't dare wake him, so he stared at diagrams of catapults until he drifted into a deep and peaceful sleep. He dreamt about rabbits; friendly ones. A yellow rabbit even forgave him for stepping on his tail.

Considering he had witnessed the scariest moment of his young life this day, considering Fíli had broken bones and a nasty bump on his head, they were alright. If there was one thing these brothers had, besides secrets - and promises - it was resilience.

 

 


End file.
